


Web

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ray has a crush on the imaginary.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Kudos: 7





	Web

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There are nice beaches, and there are shit beaches, and Ray only ever hangs out at the shit ones, because the nice ones have too many screaming kids and irritating lifeguards who get after him for smoking. In a way, he actually prefers grey sand to gold, and he likes having same jagged rocks to wander over, just enough to deter others from coming. He prefers the cacophony of seagulls to the shrieks of human children. The wind’s biting, the water cold, but that’s what Ray buys jackets for. He parks a ways up from the shore and walks down with one hand buried in the folds of his scarf, the other in a brown paper bag. His battered shoes sink into the mud and leave an obvious trail that’ll be gone in the morning. There’s no one else for as far as he can see, which is just the way he likes it.

He walks along the shelf of rocks that stabs out into the water, letting him go deeper—he won’t get what he wants if he stays on shallow ground. When he reaches the end, he plops down, cursing as he hits a sharp pebble, and adjusts until he’s comfortable enough. It’s cold and damp, but he’ll manage. Then he opens the bag and chucks a french fry into the water.

It takes a few minutes before the water ripples again. Ray stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits, contemplating a cigarette, but he doesn’t pop one out because merfolk seem to find smoking a turn off. Or at least, the one merman Ray’s met does. Ray’s still not entirely sure he’s not just imagining the whole thing. It’s a weird fantasy, but the guy Ray comes to see is hot enough to really be _a fantasy._

Eventually, the water stirs, and a shock of gold-brown hair emerges, slowly rising. Ray watches a young man appear, dripping water, peering up at him as though judging him—but it’s only Ray, alone—perfectly safe—and Philip slowly wades close enough to hike his arms up onto the rocks. 

His pale shoulders surface, broad and well built. The top of his bare chest is captivating enough, his abs flat and toned. But Ray can see the barest hints of Philip’s dark tail shimmering beneath the water, and that’s what really gets to him. It’s still hard to believe this is _real_. Philip looks so _human_. His handsome face is perfectly normal, his eyes full of intelligence and his expression rife with compassion, but Ray knows that from the waist-down, he’s pure make-believe. Ray always needs the first few seconds just to soak that in.

Then he drops the bag and nudges it towards Philip, grinning as Philip curiously opens it. He pulls out a french fry, eyes wide and appreciative before he takes his first bite. He smiles up at Ray and softly offers, “Thank you.”

“No prob,” Ray grunts. Takeout is an easy thing to throw in after all the information Philip gave him. “I secured a warehouse downtown and commissioned the tank with your specifications—it should be ready in a couple weeks.”

“Great,” Philip says, like it’s all perfectly normal. Now he’s going through the fries like Ray used to go through beer. He doesn’t say anything else, busy just enjoying the simple food that must be so _alien_ to him, so Ray has to be the one to ask.

“Now _why_ the hell am I securing an empty warehouse with a giant fish tank?”

Philip saves him the obvious answer. Obviously, Philip’s going to stay in that tank. But Ray can’t imagine why a merman would want to be downtown. Philip leaps right to that, calmly explaining, “It’s to keep this species from going extinct in the future.” 

Ray waits for more, doesn’t get it, and snorts. He should’ve known he wouldn’t get a real answer. He doesn’t even bother asking which species Philip means, because that has to be bullshit. Then again, mermen sound like bullshit. Ray tries instead, “And how exactly are you going to get there?”

Philip pauses. His frown creases with palpable concern, but then it flattens out, and he mumbles, “I’ll have friends to come and drive me.”

Ray doesn’t like the future tense there. It sounds like Philip hasn’t met them yet, or doesn’t consider them friends yet, and either way, Ray never sees any friends around the beach, bringing him lunch or chatting him up or putting his incredible gambling algorithm to good use. Ray challenges, “Friends better than me?”

Philip’s eyes flicker up. He frowns around his french fry, then slowly finishes it. His gaze lowers again, and he mutters, “I’ve troubled you enough.”

“Pfft.” Coming down to his favourite do-nothing spot and getting to stare at a gorgeous half-naked merman is hardly trouble. Ray would probably do it every day if he knew Philip would show up. Besides: “You keep me from drinking, kid. If this is what I see when I’m sober, I don’t dare risk getting drunk.”

Philip snorts, but it’s cuter and lighter when he does it. He pushes the last french fry into his mouth and looks up at Ray with a swell of gratitude that Ray finds almost staggering. No one’s ever looked at him like that—not even his ex or his kid. Philip reaches out to place his hand over Ray’s, his palm smooth and warm against Ray’s calloused knuckles. He breathes, “Seriously, Ray. _Thank you._ ”

Ray numbly nods. Then Philip pulls away, still smiling, and disappears back beneath the water. Like always, Ray’s sad to see him go.


End file.
